Hot Shot, page 10
“I’m not sure what I think at the moment. So that’s two missing tenants, and no one has done anything, is that what you’re saying?” Maggie asked tightly.
“No, there’s more. At least fifteen others who have gone missing, I think, but I don’t know any of the details. I heard about the others at bingo during conversations that were casual. While I said we don’t gossip, we don’t. But when someone . . . ah . . . passes on, we talk about it, or when someone new moves in, we talk about welcoming them. That kind of thing.”
“Would you be comfortable giving me the key to Ellie’s apartment, Mrs. Gossett? I’ll be sure to return it, and I will keep it safe until I do.”
“I don’t have a problem with that, dear. I keep it in my jewelry box. I’ll fetch it for you.”
Maggie was ready to jump out of her skin. Dennis shifted from one foot to the other. “Holy crap, Maggie, what did we just step into?”
“I wish I knew,” Maggie mumbled as her mind raced at warp speed.
“Here you go, young lady,” Frances Gossett said as she held out a shiny brass key. “You should talk to Porter. He lives right next door. I can call him if you like. Otherwise, he might not open the door when you ring his bell. He’s a very nice man. He lives to play chess, and he’s lost without his partner.”
“Absolutely,” Dennis said.
They waited while Mrs. Gossett returned to the kitchen to make the call. She was smiling when she returned. “Porter said he would be happy to talk to you. Thank you for stopping by,” she said primly as she held the door open for Maggie and Dennis.
Maggie and Dennis stood for a minute outside the door as they heard all three locks snap into place. “I think it’s the apartment to the left,” Dennis said.
He was proved right when they saw the door open and a man with gray hair and stooped shoulders step out. He looked to be in his mid-seventies. He wore a Vegas T-shirt that said WINNER on the front, baggy jeans, and boat shoes. “Come on in,” he said cheerfully.
Maggie and Dennis were both stunned to see that the apartment was spotless. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen, including the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. “What?” He cackled. “You think only women know how to keep a tidy ship? My wife taught me everything I know.” He cackled again. “I know how to cook, and I know how to clean. Coffee? I grind the beans myself. Ester says I make the best coffee she’s ever had. Take a load off,” he said, motioning to the chairs at a round oak table. “Tell me how I can help you. I can multitask—something else my wife taught me,” he said as he got cups from the cabinet and poured coffee.
Dennis took the lead this time with hand flourishes along with elated and sour expressions. “And that’s where we are. Mrs. Cricket asked us to look into things. Tell us anything you can that might help us figure out what is going on here, because clearly something is going on.”
Porter Flannery, retired college professor, talked nonstop for twenty minutes. Maggie and Dennis finished their coffee just as he wound down. His monologue was basically the same as Frances Gossett’s, almost word for word. With one exception. “I can’t stand Gentry Lomax. He’s full of himself. He’s retired military, buzz cut, spit shine all the way, and he tries to run this place like the army. I’ll give the devil his due, the man does a good job of it. Running the place, I mean. The man has no emotion, no social skills to speak of, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. I don’t know how Bessie Love can stand working for him.” He answered his own question when he said, “I guess she doesn’t have much choice since her salary works off part of or all of her rent. I’m not sure how that works. Her husband’s medical bills left her with very little when he passed away. No one likes Gentry. I mean no one at all.”
“Who hired him?” Maggie asked.
“I assume either Mr. Cricket or Mr. Meadows. He was here when I moved in six years ago.”
“Did you ever meet Mr. Meadows?” Dennis asked.
“Once,” Porter said, refilling everyone’s coffee cup. “I wasn’t impressed. He’s what we would call back in my day a dandy. Nice-looking fella, pomade in his hair, everything he wears matches, or so I’ve been told. Like I said, I only met him once. Sharp dresser, high snoot factor. Charity Evans summed him up pretty good when she said he looks down on us renters and thinks he’s better than everyone else. That’s all I can tell you about him. Now, Mr. Cricket, he’s totally different. Very personable, listens to you, always wants to know if there’s more he can do for us. He cares. You can tell that the minute you meet him. He always calls us by name. How he remembers us all is beyond me. I hope they catch whoever it was that shot him, but I’m not hopeful. Frances told me when she called that Mr. Cricket is holding his own. Do you know any more than that?”
“That’s all we know too. We’re here looking around, trying to gain information at Mrs. Cricket’s request.”
“They say she’s a real sweetheart. She’d have to be if Mr. Cricket picked her. So, what do you think of my coffee, youngsters?”
“It’s the best,” Maggie and Dennis said in unison.
Switching back to the topic at hand, Porter asked if they’d like to take a walk through Will’s apartment. They both said that they would.
“Then let’s go. You know it just eats at Gentry’s ass—excuse my language, young lady—that I have the special keys to Will’s place and he can’t get in. I won’t give them up, either. When I saw that Will wasn’t coming back after a few weeks, I gathered up all his stuff, and by stuff I mean his financial papers from the company he worked for in Silicon Valley. I have it all in a box in my closet. Gentry even went to Mr. Cricket to demand I give him a key, but Mr. Cricket said no because Will was paid up till the end of the year. Same thing with Frances’s friend Ellie Harper.
“Come along then, it’s just a short walk. I wish I knew where Will was. I really miss that guy. He was a great chess player. I don’t have a good feeling about it, and neither does Frances, but we try not to talk about it, because we get too upset.”
“Does Will have a family, any relatives?”
Porter shook his head. “He outlived his children. He had two. He lost one to drugs, and the other was killed in a hit-and-run. He had a sister, but she passed away about a year ago. I guess I was the closest thing to a relative that he had.”
Maggie and Dennis trooped behind Porter Flannery, mopping at their brows with the sleeves of their shirts. The hot Nevada sun was merciless.
Ten minutes later, with not a speck of perspiration on his brow, Porter Flannery announced that they had arrived at his friend’s apartment. “This is it, 607 Lucky Drive!”
Chapter 7
“Man, this sun is brutal,” Jack added, ringing the bell beside a quaint, multi-paned door trimmed in white. Even though the sun was shining directly onto the window, making it shimmer like a huge diamond, Jack could see two forms inside the long, narrow office of Happy Village. “At least Lomax is here now. Maybe we’ll finally get some answers. Let me do the talking, but feel free to jump in with anything you think might help. The little lady is quite nice, as well as helpful, but I think Lomax intimidates her.”
The door opened wide. Bessie Love stood to the side. Jack didn’t know why he thought she would smile when she recognized him, but there was no smile to be seen. Cyrus growled deep in his throat. Right then, Jack knew something wasn’t right. His hand dropped to the big dog’s head, his message clear to Cyrus. I feel it too.
“Good morning, Mrs. Love,” Jack said, purposely using the title she’d corrected him on earlier. “We’re here to talk to Mr. Lomax.”
Mrs. Love stepped aside, then backed up a few steps to allow Gentry Lomax to take her place front and center.
Gentry Lomax was a presence, there was no doubt about it. He towered over Jack’s six feet by a good four inches. He wore his hair high and tight. Military, Jack surmised. He had steel-gray eyes over brows that were manicured and totally gray. He was no youngster, but he was fit and trim. He stood ramrod stiff, almost as if he had a broom handle strapped to his back. He wore pressed khakis with creases so sharp that Jack wondered if they cut into his legs. He wore a collared T-shirt in olive green with HAPPY VILLAGE stenciled on the front. Jack looked down at the spit-shined shoes and swore he could see his own reflection. The watch he wore was expensive and probably did everything but cook a meal. “Jack Emery,” Jack said, holding out his hand. “My partner is Ted Robinson. We’re here at the request of Mrs. Cricket. And this is Cyrus.”
Gentry Lomax looked down at the dog, his eyes narrowing. “We should talk outside. I don’t want any dog hair in the office.”
“Cyrus doesn’t shed, Mr. Lomax. Inside will be just fine,” Jack said, authority ringing in his voice as he stepped past the Happy Village manager, Cyrus at his side. Ted followed and closed the door behind him.
Jack could see Lomax stiffen even further and his eyes narrow. He looked as if he wanted to punch something, preferably Jack.
“Mrs. Cricket would like to know what is going on. That means she wants a report, and she wants to know why you haven’t been in touch.” Jack waited for an invitation to sit down. When none was forthcoming, his own back stiffened. This was not going to go well; he could feel it in his bones.
Gentry Lomax’s voice was like his appearance, sharp and clipped. “I don’t see why. Nothing has changed other than Mr. Cricket’s being shot here. The police have all the reports, and they’re available to anyone who wants to pay five dollars to get a copy. I file a report at the end of the month for Mr. Cricket, and that’s how we do things here.”
“Well, that’s going to change right now. Mrs. Love, please help us out here.”
Lomax’s hand shot upward. “Hold on. I don’t take orders from you, and neither does Mrs. Love. You have no right to come in here and make demands.”
Now Jack’s ire was up. Cyrus started to fidget. Ted inched closer to Jack.
“We can call Mrs. Cricket, who has her husband’s power of attorney. She herself is a lawyer, and a very good one at that, as I’m sure you know. That’s if you want to put it to the test. So, let’s have that report. I’m sure you keep a daily log. Just copy the logs from the day of the shooting and hand it over. Unless you don’t keep a daily log.”
“That’s not how I do things here.”
“You aren’t in the military anymore, Mr. Lomax. You’re overseeing a senior citizens’ residential community, and that’s how things are done in the private sector. Mrs. Cricket also wants to see a report for the past eight months or so on the tenants who moved out or relocated and the reasons why they left. Of course, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but let me be the first to tell you that no one is irreplaceable. Mrs. Cricket asked me to relay that message to you should you prove recalcitrant about honoring her requests, requiring her to stop asking and begin demanding,” Jack outright fibbed. He did not like this guy.
“What? Are you implying I’m going to be fired?” The ramrod back stiffened even more. “I have a contract. Mr. Cricket hired me, not Mrs. Cricket.” Jack almost smiled as he sensed the bluster in the tall man’s tone and attitude.
“Power of attorney, Mr. Lomax. Power of attorney. Mrs. Cricket can do whatever she wants to do, including replacing you with someone who will honor her requests. She is a lawyer, as I pointed out earlier. All she wants to do is to get to the bottom of what happened to her husband. Why are you being so uncooperative? Could it be that you have something to hide? If not, I would think you’d want to do everything in your power to find out what happened that day.”
“Our records are confidential. Privacy and all that,” Lomax said in a more conciliatory tone. He turned to Bessie and instructed, “Make copies of what they want, nothing more. Is there anything else?”
“Are you in regular contact with Lionel and his boys?”
“Not if I can help it. Those boys are a thorn in my side. They serve no purpose. I understand that the tenants feel safe with them around, but all they do is get in the way.”
“In the way of what?” Ted asked, speaking up for the first time. “How do they interfere with the operation of the community?”
“The day-to-day workings of the complex,” Lomax snapped. “I run a tight ship here.”
“And yet your boss, the owner of this complex, was shot and almost died on your watch as you ran your tight ship. How do you account for that?”
Lomax’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I wasn’t here when it happened, and Lionel and his boys weren’t here either. Are you implying I’m to blame for Mr. Cricket’s getting shot?” Jack shrugged. Cyrus growled, then showed the pearly whites that Jack religiously brushed twice a day.
“Where were you the day it happened?” Ted asked.
“I went to Home Depot to pick up two kitchen sinks on back order. When I got back, all hell had broken loose. I didn’t even know Mr. Cricket was coming here that day. He always calls when he’s coming, and he’s never late. I respect punctuality, as does he. And yes, it is a military thing where I’m concerned. I can’t speak for Mr. Cricket, since there are no clocks in the casinos. I assume he just likes to be on time.”
Jack felt as if some of the wind had gone out of his sails. He moved on. “How many vacancies are there here in the village?”
“Normally, there are none, with a waiting list a mile long, but right now there are exactly twenty.”
“Why?” Jack asked.
“Some of the tenants have moved or left. The apartments of those who paid their rent through the end of the year, which includes most of the twenty—Bessie can tell you exactly how many and which ones—even though vacant, cannot be rented until the year is up. No one knows where or why the tenants left. I consulted the police and Mr. Cricket as well. We cannot rent those apartments, that’s the bottom line. It would be illegal to do so. And we are still considering the applications for the others.”
Ted pursed his lips as he listened to Lomax and how his tone changed with the questions. He wished Maggie were here. She’d have a fix on this guy in five minutes. “Does Mr. Cricket make a habit of coming unannounced? Has he ever done that before?”
“No, he hasn’t.” Lomax sighed. “That’s been bothering me too. For him to come out here to the desert in the middle of the day, something must have been important. And no, I have no clue as to what that reason would be. I cannot tell you something I don’t know.”
“What about Mr. Meadows?” Jack asked.
“What about him? I barely know the man. I know that at one time his mother resided here, but that was before my time. I met him once or twice for maybe a total of five minutes each time. I think it was Thanksgiving and one Christmas party. I’m not even sure I could pick him out of a crowd. My dealings were always with Mr. Cricket.”
“And yet Mr. Meadows owns half of Happy Village?” Jack said, his eyebrows shooting upward to show how strange he thought that was.
“I find it strange myself, but that’s all I know. I was never privy to how the two men managed the financial end of this complex. I did hear through the grapevine that some, maybe all, of the casino owners have a hand in it also. I have no way of knowing whether that’s true, and it’s none of my business. I don’t ask questions. I do my job, and I expect everyone else to do theirs. Are we done here?”
“For now,” Jack said as he reached out for the sheaf of papers Bessie Love handed him. “If Mrs. Cricket has any more questions, then we’ll be back. You know what I find strange, Mr. Lomax?”
“Tell me,” Lomax said through clenched teeth.
“You never once asked how Mrs. Cricket was or how her husband was doing.”
“Why ask a question when you already know the answer? We learned that in the army, and I understand that’s a rule for lawyers also. Mrs. Cricket is devastated. That’s a given. I call the hospital four times a day for an update on Mr. Cricket. The report is always the same. He’s in critical condition but holding his own. I’m a military man, Mr. Emery. We’re trained not to show our emotions. Now, if there is nothing else, I have work to do.”
Jack looked at Ted as much as to say, We’re done here. Cyrus was way ahead of them, having headed for the door and barked.
Neither man spoke until they were a block away from the Happy Village office. “My gut and my reporter instinct are telling me Lomax knows something, or at the very least suspects something,” Ted said as he wiped at his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
Jack stopped and pulled a bottle of water from his backpack along with a fold-up bowl he carried for Cyrus. He poured water and waited while the big dog finished it all. “I feel the same way. I can’t put my finger on what it is that triggered it either. Something is just off.” Jack stuffed the empty water bottle and bowl back into his backpack. “We need to check in with Espinosa and Maggie and Dennis. They’re here somewhere.”
“I’m on it. You check in with Espinosa. I just sent Maggie a text. Ah, she said they’re just now leaving someone’s apartment. She said to meet them on the corner of Primrose and Lilac Lane. That’s two blocks over. Damn, it’s hot. I feel like I’m melting.”
“Right now I’d like to take a shower with ice-cold lemonade pouring over me,” Jack said, and guffawed. “How do these people handle this excessive heat?” he literally gasped.
“Who says they get used to it?” Ted roared. “We’re the only fools out here walking around, or haven’t you noticed? Plus it isn’t even noon yet, the heat of the day.”
“Come on, we have to get Cyrus out of here before he burns his feet on this red-hot concrete. I can feel it through my sneakers, so it has to be killing him.”
Jack and Ted were breathing hard and Cyrus panting as they literally fell into the rental van. Ted quickly turned on the ignition and set the A/C to its highest level. At first, hot air blasted out of the vents, but delicious cold air followed. “We are not moving until we all cool down,” Jack said as he stroked Cyrus’s head. “We’ll get you some ice-cold water in just a few minutes, big guy. Just hang on.”
